Beauty and the Beast: Farmboy and the Billionaire
by ForbalaTheGreen
Summary: Loosely based on Grimm's "Beauty and the Beast." To save his father, Clark must go live with Lex, an eccentric billionaire. AU, yaoi. Clark has no powers, possibly some kink: bondage, D/s relationship, etc. DISCONTINUED.
1. A Trade

**Hello, dearest, darlingest readers! This is a Beauty and the Beast fic (duh) partially inspired by queenmorgan23's fic "Hard Work" (super hot, go read). For those of you reading "Escape," yes I'm still working on it and no, I promise it won't go to the abyss that "Summer of Their Lives" disappeared to. Promise. I'm too invested in it. For those of you who are quite confused, ignore that and simply enjoy the sexual slavery—I mean…uh…we all know what Beast would have done to Beauty IRL. Don't you judge me. I do that with my BFF/girlfriend/spiritual adviser all the time. It's awesome.**

**ANYway. Clark. Lex. Gay sex. Oh my.**

**Also, Clark no powers. He was born human to John and Martha. FYI. I'm sleepy.**

**Enjoy!**

**-Forbala-**

CHAPTER ONE: A TRADE

Jonathon Kent was going to Metropolis for a farmer's convention. "What can I pick up for you in Metropolis, Martha?" he asked his wife, putting his arm around her waist.

"I need a new cast-iron skillet," she told him.

"Will do," Jonathon replied, kissing her on the cheek. "And you, Clark?" he asked his seventeen-year-old son.

"I've been looking for a first-edition Superman number one. Barring that, nothing."

"Clark, you know how rare and expensive that is."

"I know. It's not that important."

"Well, I'll see what I can do, son."

"Be safe on your trip, dad."

"I'll be back in two days!" Jonathon said as he climbed into his car and drove away. Clark watched him until he disappeared, then went back into the house to finish his homework.

The convention went great, and Jonathon found a great skillet for his wife, but found no first-edition Superman number one for his son. As expected. Still, he felt bad. He hated disappointing Clark.

So Jonathon got in his car and began his drive home. It was raining, but not too bad. It didn't get bad until he was pretty near Smallville. He was just getting ready to pull over on the shoulder when he saw a mansion looming up ahead. Better there than the side of the road, right?

He drove up to the gate and pushed the button. "Hello?" he said.

"What do you need, sir?" a man answered.

"I'd like a place to stay. This weather is terrible and I'm still far from home. Can I come in?"

The man didn't respond, but the iron-wrought gate buzzed and opened and Jonathon drove in. When he pulled up to the door, it was open and a manservant stood waiting. He ran inside and shook off some of the pounds of water covering him. The man handed John a towel and led him into the dining room, where a fabulous meal was set up.

"Jeez, you sure work fast, don't you?" he asked, sitting, the towel wrapped around his neck.

"I'll get you some dry clothes, sir. Call for me when you're finished eating."

Jonathon ate the meal in a hurry and enjoyed every bite. When he'd finished, the manservant led him to a luxurious bedroom, gave him silk pajamas, and took his clothes to clean them while he showered. He slept like the dead that night on a down mattress and when he woke, his clothes were cleaned and pressed and sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. On a small table sat a gorgeous breakfast. Jonathon simply couldn't believe that anyone lived like this; it was insane.

He descended the grand staircase and looked at the art lining the walls. Grandeur in every corner of the place. Ridiculous.

As he walked down one long hallway, he noticed it was full of first-edition comics, overwhelmingly full of Superman comics.

There it was. A Superman number one. First edition. Just what Clark wanted.

Jonathon knew he'd never be able to find another copy, let alone afford to buy it. But could he take something so valuable from someone who had shown him so much kindness, even if he was a shadow?

It's not as though he'd miss it. He had valuable comics lining the walls of this one hallway. Jonathon took a deep breath and made a decision: He opened the Plexiglas case and lifted the comic. An alarm went off and within moments, a young man appeared in the hallway. He was perhaps mid to late twenties, yet completely bald, and perfectly dressed in an expensive suit.

"And what do you think you're doing?" the young man asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, I was just looking at it."

"No, you weren't. You were going to take it. And after I took you in, clothed you, fed you? How ungrateful. Tell me, what shall I do with you?" he asked, stepping toward Jonathon.

"Please, it's for my son. He's wanted a first edition Superman number one for years. It's the only thing he wants!" Jonathon pleaded. "I have to get back home. My wife and son need me!"

"Your son, eh? How old is he?"

"Seventeen."

"What's his name?"

"Clark."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a farmer."

"And does Clark work on your farm?"

"Every day. He works hard in school and at home, plays football. He's a good boy."

"All right, Jonathon, tell you what. I'll show you one more kindness: You can go home to your family and friends, and I won't press charges. But in exchange, you are to send your son here to live with me."

"What? Why?"

"I could use another hand here, someone who can work outside. He'd be well cared-for here. So go home, pack his bags, and I'll send a car for him tomorrow. If you or he disappears, I'll find you and kill you."

Jonathon gulped. He had no choice. He had to go back, or Clark and Martha would starve. "Fine. But please, treat him well."

"You have my word."

With a heavy heart, Jonathon climbed into his car and drove away.


	2. Moving In

**I hope you're enjoying this! I've always love Beauty and the Beast. It's so fabulicious. Anyway, we continue with the story! Also note, this isn't the Disney version. It's (loosely) the Grimm version. Little difference, but different nonetheless. Also, sorry for the slow Chapter 1; I had to set everything up. I may go back and revise it. Late night typing can be either really amazing or really…bad. Haha. So here we go! The great meet-cute!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Forbala-**

CHAPTER TWO: MOVING IN

When Jonathon returned home, he told Martha and Clark what had happened and what the billionaire had said.

"It's okay, dad. I'll go to this guy. It won't be that bad," Clark said, sweet and selfless as always.

"But, Clark—" began his mother.

"No, mom. I'm going to do this if I have to sneak out under the cover of darkness. So you may as well give me a proper goodbye."

He parents looked at him for a long moment before they both sighed.

Clark packed a single duffle with clothes, and filled his backpack with school supplies and comic books. He was ready to leave in under an hour.

They sat down to one last family dinner, and Clark tried to talk and keep up the pretense of normality, but his parents were somber and depressed. They watched TV together long into the night, until both parents fell asleep on the couch. Clark gently picked up his mother and carried her upstairs to bed, then hefted his father onto his back and lugged him to bed as well. He didn't sleep, but spent the whole night writing letters to his friends, then walking among the animals in the barn.

When dawn came, a black limo was waiting outside Clark's house. He woke his parents. They had breakfast and said a short goodbye before the limo driver pulled Clark gently away.

"I'm sorry about this," the driver said as they drove away from the farm. Clark was watching it disappear out the window. He wondered how they'd manage without him.

"That's fine," he said absently. "It's not like you're doing this."

The drive was long and quiet after that. When at last the limo pulled up to the mansion, Clark's mouth fell in shock. It was enormous and, quite simply, ostentatious. But it was impressive to the small-town farmboy.

"Who is this guy?"

"Lex Luthor."

Clark entered the mansion, backpack on one shoulder and duffel in hand, to see a double line of servants from the door to the staircase, men and women, all dressed perfectly in uniform, and all smiling warmly. "Welcome, Clark!" they said. It was sweet, but a little creepy. Regardless, he smiled politely and nodded to each of them. One manservant, Roger, led him up the stairs and to an ornate suite: a living room in front before opening to a bedroom and bathroom, all of which were posh and fabulously decorated. The bed was a four-poster canopy and the bathroom was entirely tile, with a tub like a small pool, a steam shower, heated porcelain toilet in its own little room, and his-and-hers sinks.

Clark was only able to gape. "This is…oh my god. Like…_oh my god_."

"Mr. Luthor likes to live well, and likes for his guests to live well," Roger said.

"Well, yeah, sure. But _this_!"

"Get used to it, Mr. Kent."

"Oh god, call me Clark."

"Clark, then. Mr. Luthor would like to meet you for breakfast at nine."

"I've already eaten."

"I suggest you join him. He's a bit touchy."

"Okay. I'll…see if I can find my way down there."

"I can come get you. I know the house is big."

"House!" Clark laughed nervously. "Try mansion!"

"I'll see you at eight forty," Roger said, bowing out of the room.

Clark looked around his suite some more, then went into the bathroom. He hadn't had time to shower that morning, and wanted to get clean before meeting his captor. He stripped down and tossed his cowboy boots, worn jeans, boxers, white cotton t-shirt, and red flannel button-up on the marble tiled floor. Completely naked now, he stepped into the steam shower. Hot water ran over his dark hair, plastering it to his face and neck, and down his neck, chest, and legs, over golden, sun-kissed skin. He sighed and relaxed in the hot water, letting his work-toned muscles ease. The glass of the shower fogged quickly from the heat. He had never been in such a luxurious shower. It was silly to live in such luxury, but god, was it nice.

He finally stepped out of the shower and wrapped a soft, crème-colored towel around his waist, and dried his face, arms, and chest with a matching towel. He dressed in the same clothes, his hair still damp, and went into the main room of the suite, where he saw Roger waiting for him.

"Did you enjoy the shower, Clark?" Roger asked, smiling.

"That thing is…a slice of heaven."

"You'll have to tell Mr. Luthor you appreciated it."

Roger led Clark down a long hallway, two lefts, a right, and into the second-floor foyer, down the staircase, and into the dining room. Clark sat down and only moments later, a feast was laid out before him: bacon, biscuits, gravy, fried eggs, eggs sunny-side up, pancakes, waffles, assorted cereals, smoked ham, tropical fruits, local fruits, jellies and jams, warm butter, syrup, milk, juices, tea and coffee. Clark was used to a big breakfast, but this was overwhelming. He didn't know where to start.

"Mr. Luthor requests that you start without him. He will join you shortly," said a pretty young woman in a fluffy maid's dress.

"Are you sure?" he asked nervously.

"Absolutely, Mr. Kent!"

He loaded a porcelain plate—with some guilt—up with everything he could reach. He picked up a sterling silver fork and winced as he dug in. It was a shame to use such beautiful, expensive tableware—what if he scratched or broke something?

Clark had barely taken a bite when he felt himself being watched. He turned to see a man in his mid-twenties, totally bald, in slacks and a dress shirt, standing in the doorway, looking like a model. This must be the famous Lex Luthor.

Clark stood and wiped his mouth anxiously. "Um, good morning."

"Good morning," the man said, walking to the table and standing near Clark. "Would you be Clark Kent?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Lex Luthor."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Luthor."

"So polite, but you may call me Lex. Do you know why you're here?"

"Yes, sir. My father tried to take something."

"That's right. Normally, I would have him arrested and imprisoned somewhere remote, but I decided to try leniency. He says you're strong and a good worker."

"That's right. I work on the farm before and after school every day."

"What do you do?"

"Plow, feed the animals, muck stalls, milk the cows, collect eggs, you know."

Lex nodded. "Well, sit down, Clark. Enjoy your breakfast." They both sat, across from each other. Lex put fried eggs, smoked ham, and a variety of fruits on his plate and ate conservatively, his attention on Clark. It made him nervous and he shifted in his seat.

"So," Lex said after a while of tense silence, waving his arm around. "What do you think?"

"Um…I think my room is too nice," Clark said softly.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"It's too big. It's like a house all by itself."

"Nonsense. There's no reason to feel embarrassed. It's there, may as well use it. This way you can have your privacy when you want it."

"Well…I guess so. The shower was really great."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." They ate in silence again. Or, Clark did. Lex mostly continued to watch the teen, every so often taking a bite. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

Lex nodded again. Then, after a moment, "Well, I'm going to my office. I'll see you for dinner at seven. You're not going to school anymore, but I'll bring in private tutors if you wish. You have full use of the kitchen and first floor. You can use the grounds with supervision from Roger—he will be our…go-between. We have horses to ride, if you wish. Roger will give you a tour."

And with that, Lex swept out of the room and disappeared. The same maid from before descended on his breakfast, barely touched, and swept it away.


	3. Riding

**Hey, there! I hope you're enjoying this! We'll get to some brief "special parts" in this chapter ~.^ For the record, a horse barn is the best-smelling, happiest, most wonderful place in the world. I prefer Western riding, but English is also really fun. Also, I can actually untack the horse by myself in English, because the Western saddle is so big and has so many pieces and straps, and I am rather short. Still, I stand by my choice.**

**Enjoy!**

**-Forbala-**

CHAPTER THREE: RIDING

Clark finished his breakfast and tried to take it into the kitchen, but the maid—Jenny—batted his hands away and nearly fought him for the dishes.

"Mr. Kent, this is my job!" she protested.

"My name is Clark, and I wouldn't feel right if you did this! I dirtied them, I'll clean them!"

But in the end, Jenny had won. Clark had been defeated by a skinny girl in a fluffy dress that looked more like a costume than a uniform. He went up to his rooms (_Oh god_, he groaned internally) and decided to really explore. The living room was wide and open, with an almost floor-to-ceiling window looking out over the back of the grounds. The couches and chairs were lush and arranged around a fifty-inch plasma screen internet-capable TV and media center—complete with a VCR/DVD player, Xbox 360, PS3, and Wii. Games for each system, DVD's, and tapes were arranged by media, then alphabetically, in a cabinet of fine dark wood.

"Jesus Christ," Clark whispered in awe.

Moving on, he saw a pair of chairs and a tea table on the opposite wall, like something out of an Austen movie. In the bedroom, an L-shaped desk was in one corner. It had a desktop with a second monitor and was stocked with school supplies. He found he had full internet access. Interesting. Opposite the bed was another fifty-inch, internet-capable plasma TV. On the dresser sat a note and a credit card with the name CLARK KENT on it. The note read:

_Clark—_

_Use this credit card for anything you want. I will keep it loaded._

_Lex_

Clark shook his head and slipped the card and the note into a desk drawer. He would talk with Lex about it over dinner.

One wall of the bedroom was a bookshelf, full of books of all types: science, math, philosophy, ancient and modern plays, novels both brand new and dating back to the 1700's, comic books, manga, and…oh. Clark picked one book up and read the title: _Henry the Pirate of the Seven Seas_. Reading the summary, he realized it was a gay porn novel. He blushed and replaced it on the shelf. He would _not_ be talking to Lex about that.

He went into the bathroom and found a terrycloth robe near the shower, the same crème color as the towels. The tub (small pool) had jets in the side and he realized it doubled as a Jacuzzi. In the toilet room and attached to the outside of the shower were iPod docks/radios.

This whole place was ridiculous.

X

Lex sat at his desk, but couldn't focus. Clark Kent. That boy was filling his mind with pornographic thoughts. Lex had thought he might get a good deal out of this trade with Jonathon Kent, and god was he ever right. Clark was beautiful. He looked like a Greek statue brought to life, a man descended straight from Olympus, the youthful Apollo himself.

Lex couldn't take it anymore. He wouldn't get anything done until he relieved himself. He unzipped his slacks, grabbed a tissue, covered the head of his dick with it, and began fisting himself. Clark's face entered his mind: golden skin, strong chin and jaw, curly dark hair framing honest green eyes.

Lex imagined what he would look like naked. He would be well toned from hours and years on the farm. Lex could see Clark squirming underneath him, flushed face and swollen cock. Crying out for Lex through those gorgeous lips. Clark on top of him, riding him like a horse, bucking his hips, up and down, up and down—

_Oh god._

Lex bent over his desk, resting his head on the wood and shaking as he came. He couldn't wait to play with Clark.

X

Clark left his room and looked around the first floor for Roger. Clark poked his head in the kitchen and saw Roger, talking with a maid.

"It's so nice to have someone new in the house," the maid was saying.

"I just hope Mr. Luthor treats the boy well. Clark's a good kid and he deserves to be free."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"You've only been here a few months."

"I suppose, but what can he really do?"

"Well, the last boy he brought in—"

Clark decided he didn't want to hear any more, so he came barging loudly into the kitchen. "Hey, Roger."

"Oh, hello, Clark. Can I get you something? Are you hungry?"

"Um, I was actually wondering if you'd show me around and stuff?"

"Of course. Come with me."

They explored the house—the dining room and kitchen, of course, but also where Lex's office was, should Clark ever need to go there, and the mini-museums Mr. Luthor had in his mansion. There was classical art, sculpture, and—most important of all—comic books. Clark strode up and down the comic book hall, putting his face right up to the glass barriers and chattering excitedly about each issue he saw. His favorite was, of course, the Superman #1, and he spent a full ten minutes looking at it through the glass and telling Roger everything about it.

"I've read this issue probably a hundred times, but I've never had a first edition copy! It's my dream!" he chattered.

When at last Clark tore himself away from the Superman #1, edition 1, Roger took him outside to look at the grounds. They got into a golf cart with "LL" painted in gold on the side. No joke. A golf cart. A monogrammed golf cart. Clark shook his head in wonder.

Roger showed him the golf course, the expansive gardens, the tennis courts, the pool, the summer house, the pool house, the guest house (_How many houses do you need?_ Clark wondered), and gun range (yes, really. There were regular targets and skeet), and finally, the barn.

"Do you ride?" Roger asked as they entered. Clark inhaled deeply, loving the scent of the barn—horse crap, horse sweat, hay, dirt, leather, leather polish, and more horse smell. Growing up on a farm, such smells were familiar and comforting to him. Sure, some people found the smell of horses and their barns to be nauseating, but he simply didn't understand that. Barns smelled like home and, if there truly was a heaven, he knew it smelled like a barn.

"Well, not really," he answered. "I know the basics—we have a mare back on the farm, but she's for work, so I've only done a little bit of riding."

"We can get an instructor out here for you, if you wish. Mr. Luthor has an Arabian, a Mustang, several Thoroughbreds—most of those are racers, though—a couple Pintos, and a few Quarter horses. You're welcome to ride all but the Thoroughbreds."

"What does Lex ride?"

"The Arabian, Samson."

Clark nodded and went to Samson's stall. He held out his hand for the horse to smell and then stroked his sleek neck when he was approved. Samson was brilliant white, with gray and brown speckles, and gray mane and tale. He was beautiful and radiated power, though he seemed well trained.

Clark moved on to the next stall—a Quarter horse named Delilah—and petted her too. He went to the tack room and found some sugar cubes, then went back and gave one to Samson and Delilah each. He went into Delilah's stall and brushed her down and decided he quite liked her. She was quiet and gentle and kept nosing against Clark's chest affectionately (or asking for another sugar cube).

"Can I ride her?" he asked Roger.

"Of course. I'll help you tack her up."

It had been over a year since Clark had ridden a horse, but he was, with Roger's help, able to tack Delilah and mount her. He was plenty tall enough to where he didn't need a mounting block, and Delilah was only about fifteen-and-a-half hands, so he got up fairly easily. Roger led Delilah by the reins into a small paddock, where Clark simply walked around the inside of the fence, re-accustoming himself with the feel of a horse and getting to know Delilah. He stopped for a moment and decided to show her how much he trusted her: he let go of the reins and slowly lay back, laying over the English saddle and resting his head on her hindquarters. He rubbed her side comfortingly and she remained still for him. When he sat back upright, he petted her neck and kissed her and complimented her.

After an hour or so, Clark went to the fence, where he dismounted and Roger helped untack and clean the mare. They went back into the mansion, via golf cart, and Clark went back to his suite to shower. If he could ride a few times a week, he knew he could actually be happy in his dressed-up prison cell.


	4. A Very Interesting Dinner

**Oh god, oh god. I am SO SORRY for waiting so long to update. I have been freaking out these past few weeks. I'm transferring to a different college, and I don't know which one yet, and I've got so much other shit going on. However, that is not an excuse! Of course, as soon as I get into crunch time on papers and exams, **_**now**_** I'm getting back to my stories. My life makes no sense. (You may see this spiel again in my latest ROMY fic, **_**Escape.**_** If not, you should go read it. Updating it sometime this week.)**

**Also, I'm sick and a little delirious, so please pardon any typos or failtasticness. If I get reports of this being really poorly written, I'll edit it, so please do tell me if it needs a rewrite.**

**Enjoy!**

**-Forbala-**

CHAPTER FOUR: A VERY INTERESTING DINNER

Clark poked around in his room for the remainder of the afternoon. He played videogames and unpacked a bit, and added a few personal touches to the suite—posters and the like. It didn't look much different afterwards, though, because he had so little to begin with, save his small _Superman_ comics collection, which was packed away safely in his top dresser drawer.

Finally, Roger knocked on the door and announced dinner. Clark changed into his one pair of khakis and one of his two dress shirts—the blue one; the other was red—and followed Roger to the dining room. He sat down, put the white linen napkin in his lap, and stared at the silverware. How many forks can one person need?

It was only a moment before Lex entered, walking quickly as businessmen do, rubbing his neck with one hand. He looked up and, seeing Clark, smiled and dropped his arm, putting his hand in his pocket.

"Good evening, Clark. I nearly forgot about you."

"Um, hi."

Lex sat and a pair of maids brought out trays of food: roast ham and turkey, vegetables of all sort, three different salads, French bread, and white and red wine in those fancy ice buckets. As one girl poured red wine for Lex, the other asked Clark which he'd prefer.

"Could I have some water, please?" he asked hesitantly.

"Clark, you can drink in my house. Don't worry about that silly drinking age thing; the police wouldn't dare go against me."

"I've never…I don't drink."

"Whatever you prefer, then." But the maid proceeded to poor a glass of red wine for Clark before fetching him a glass of water. Clark thanked her and began eating.

"How was your day, Clark?" Lex asked.

Clark wished he would stop saying his name. It made him shiver with fear. Lex made him nervous. But he answered his new guardian regardless: "It was nice. Roger showed me the horses; they're beautiful."

"Oh? Which is your favorite?"

"I like Delilah."

Lex smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Should we hire you an instructor?"

"That would be amazing, but I don't want to spend money where I can just teach myself."

"Clark. Look around. Money means next to nothing to me."

"It does to me, though. Speaking of which, I saw the credit card you gave me, and it's totally unnecessary. I don't need to buy anything."

"Nonsense. I'm not going to pay you for you services here or give you an allowance. But in exchange for your work, you will have unlimited spending money. Buy whatever you like. I'll never see the bill. Buy a small country if you wish. It doesn't matter to me."

"But…"

"We're not arguing the point, Clark. That credit card is yours to use, or not, as you wish."

Clark began to argue the point once more, but closed his mouth. If Lex wanted to give him a useless piece of plastic, fine. He just wouldn't use it.

"So, Clark," Lex continued, tactfully changing the subject. "You went to Smallville High?"

"Yeah."

"Do you play any sports?"

"Football and baseball, but football's my favorite."

"I bet you're good." Lex looked at Clark predatorily, eyes roving over his strong, lean, youthful body. Clark shivered and looked down at his food, but couldn't eat.

"Uh…yeah. Coach told me that a bunch of scouts would come to talk to me this year. To recruit me for KU and other schools. He said I could get some really great football scholarships, maybe even go pro."

"That's excellent. I'd love to see you play sometime."

"Well, it'll be hard now, since I can't go to school anymore."

"I'm sure we can find a way for you to keep playing. So you want to go to college, then?"

"Yeah, who doesn't? Neither of my parents went to college, and look how we're struggling. I don't know how they'll keep going without me to help out."

"Oh, don't worry about them. I'm paying them for services lost. They'll have enough to hire one or two new hands, more, however many they need."

"That's…very kind of you."

"Tell me about your friends. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No girlfriend." Clark shifted in his seat nervously. Lex noticed and pushed the issue. He could see where Clark's passions lie. It takes one to know one, so they say.

"I find that hard to believe. Nice, handsome boy like you. I bet the girls are all over you."

"I guess. But I haven't seen any girls I'm especially fond of."

"Well, that's too bad." Lex rose from the table. Clark shifted nervously again as Lex walked down the length of the table. When Lex arrived at Clark's end, he sat on the edge of the table. Lex said softly, "Is there anyone you _are_ fond of?"

"Um…" Clark swallowed. "I mean, there's really…no one I…"

Lex silenced Clark with a finger on his lips. And then a kiss.

Lex pressed his lips against Clark's, as softly as he'd spoken. Clark didn't pull away, at first, but closed his eyes and leaned into it. Lex's lips were soft and pleasing. But when Lex pushed harder and put his hand on Clark's shoulder, the younger man pulled away. He felt lightheaded and his stomach was fluttery. Lex was handsome, and a good kisser. But—Clark…well Lex was a man. And Clark knew he liked men more than women, but he wasn't quite ready for all this. He was still in the closet.

"Lex…that's not—"

But Lex wasn't listening. He'd felt Clark's near-compliance and was determined to get more out of his new youthful companion. Lex fisted his hands in Clark's shirt and nearly threw him from his chair to sit on the table, sending food and tableware flying and clattering. Clark made a startled noise and tried to move off the table, but Lex pushed on Clark's chest and pressed their lips together once more. Lex forced his tongue into Clark's mouth and his hands massaged the boy's shoulders. Clark pushed against Lex and turned his head, but it didn't deter the fortunate son: Lex moved his mouth to Clark's neck and began to lick and nip and suck. His hands roved down Clark's magnificent chest and rapidly undid the buttons. He growled low when he realized Clark was wearing a white t-shirt underneath, so he pushed it up and glued his mouth to the sunkissed skin. One hand pinched Clark's nipple, hard, making the boy cry out, while Lex's mouth sucked on and licked and bit the other.

Clark was distraught. When he'd first seen Lex, he thought the man was handsome and he thought he could grow to like him. The kissing had been nice, even if Clark wasn't quite ready to come out and admit it. And this…this was frightening and pleasurable and confusing. Clark's body was hot all over, he was getting hard, Lex's hands and mouth felt _amazing_, but Lex was also being rough and Clark's neck and nipple's hurt and he was scared. Was Lex going to rape him? Apparently Clark was here not to be a servant but instead, a boy toy—or in addition.

"Lex, get _off_!" Clark pushed roughly against Lex, who had just unzipped Clark's pants. Lex stumbled backwards and fell into Clark's dinner chair. Clark sat up, shakily, zipped his pants, straightened his t-shirt, and re-buttoned the dress shirt. Only then did he look up at Lex. Lex looked indignant, but didn't attack Clark again.

"Why am I here, Lex?"

"You're father tried to steal from me. In return for not arresting him and destroying his life, you are here to be my servant. You do what I ask, whatever I ask."

"So, I'm your sex slave then?"

"If that's what I ask, yes."

"This is ridiculous! You can't just enslave people! This is _rape_!"

"I'm rich, Clark. No one will look too closely at me and my affairs. And for anyone who actually cares enough to ask, I'll just tell them you're a worker or a gardener or something. You belong to me now, Clark."

"This is illegal in so many ways. I'm seventeen! I'm an idiot! Why do you even care about some seventeen-year-old dipshit anyway?"

"I'm a pederast."

"A what?"

"Pederast. I like youthful men. Men who barely qualify as such. Men who are still boyish. Look at you. You're the Greek ideal: young, strong, handsome. You could be Apollo for all the difference it'd make."

"I could be who? That is so creepy. Are you some kind of pedophile?"

"No. I'm a pederast. There's a difference. Pedophiles like pre-pubescent kids. I like guys who are more than boys but not yet fully men."

"Fine, whatever. Whatever you are, I don't want to have sex with you."

"Are you straight?"

"What?"

"Well, if you don't want to sleep with me because I have a dick, fine. I can find a way where we'll both be satisfied. But if you're gay, then this is a great situation."

"I'm not—I'm totally straight!"

"You're lying. You liked it when I kissed you, when I ripped your clothes off and worshipped your gorgeous body."

"D-Did not."

Lex stood and put his hands on the table, either side of Clark's thighs, and leaned in, speaking softly again, his voice low and husky and manly and sexy. "You liked it, Clark. I can see it in your face, your eyes, your body…your cock." Lex squeezed Clark's half-erect cock through his khakis, making the boy gasp. "Let me guess: You stare at other guys too long in the locker room, you care more about the action hero's glistening muscles and tight ass than you do about the ass he's kicking, you secretly crush on the same guys your female friends crush on. You're gay and you know it, but you're still in the closet. That's fine by me. We'll just fool around until you're ready to face this."

As he said this, Lex undid Clark's pants again and opened them up, then pushed the boy's boxer's down under his balls. His cock was long and thick and glorious, like the rest of him, mostly hard and glistening with precum. Lex became ravenous quite suddenly and hunched down over Clark's manhood. He blew on the tip and Clark gasped raspily. Lex smiled. He took Clark into his mouth very quickly, until the tip brushed against Lex's throat. Clark cried out and collapsed onto his arms on the table, barely catching himself.

Lex bobbed his head, licking and sucking, swallowing and humming, fueled by Clark's mewling and moaning and writhing. His hands slid up Clark's chest, pushing his shirts up and ignoring buttons altogether. They tweaked and twisted his nipples and brushed lightly over the hard muscles. Then one hand moved down to massage a thigh, then moved to massage Clark's balls. Clark whimpered and then bucked again, harder, into Lex's willing mouth and came. Hot cum spurted down Lex's throat, and he swallowed every drop of it, sucked Clark until he was totally dry and limp.

Lex carefully, almost motherly, put Clark's clothes back in order and smoothed them out, moving Clark as necessary, who was a limp ragdoll, panting and moving whichever way Lex pushed him, like a jellyfish floating in the tide. When Clark was proper again, Lex kissed the boy's lips gently and ran a hand up and down his back.

"So, do you think this arrangement could work, Clark?" Lex asked, in his tantalizingly soft voice. Clark gulped but nodded and Lex, smirking, squeezed the boy's ass, making him jump. "Go on upstairs, Clark. Call or come find me if you need me. Roger!"

Roger came dashing in immediately from the kitchen. "Help Clark up to his room, and give him my contact information and yours. I assume he has a cell phone, but if he doesn't, get him one tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Roger said and, seeing the dazed boy, putt one of Clark's arms around his shoulders. They began their way to Clark's room.

**Okay, finally finished that. Again, I'm so sorry it took so long. My life was a little insane for a while. I'll be better over the summer, I promise.**

**Real quick, I do have a couple things for you:**

**1) I'm worried about distinguishing love from Stockholm Syndrome. I have a few suggestions from a friend on how to do that, but know that it will be one of my hurdles for this. Tell me if it gets too Stockholm, mmkay?  
**

**2) I was contemplating making Clark a full-on love slave for a while, before actual love happens. Like, collar, leash, minimal clothing, 24/7 D/s relationship, the whole nine yards. Thoughts? Yes or no? It would be temporary, like 2-3 chapters tops, but yeah. There's that. Let me know!**

**Thanks for being so patient!**

**-Forbala-**


	5. Slave

**Hey, guys! Thanks for the great feedback last chapter! I'm so glad you're sticking with this and didn't get mad after I took forever. I got a few reviews saying we wanted Slave Clark, so Slave Clark it is! Of course, I am losing at least one reader over this, but oh well. I'm sorry to lose you, Catherine65, and any anons. I may write a few alternate chapters, just for you because you took the time to give such a long review and everything, so if you're reading this, please keep me on alert! I'll see what I can do to—er, satisfy you ;)**

**Anyway, on with the show!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Forbala-**

CHAPTER FIVE: SLAVE

Clark woke up the next morning even more frightened, confused, and distressed than the night before. He'd made out with Lex, told the man off, then accepted a blowjob—his first blowjob, from some strange man who seemed to think Clark was a living toy.

He sat up on the side of the bed and put his head in his hands. He had to do something. He couldn't stay here and let Lex abuse him.

But what about his parents? Without Lex's money, they would starve. If Clark left, Jonathan would go to prison, and Martha would starve. They'd lose everything. Clark had to stay, no matter what Lex did to him. He couldn't risk his parents and their farm on his happiness.

He sighed, resigned to his fate, whatever it might be, and got up to get ready for the day. When he was clean and dressed, he went to the computer. He had several emails from his friends, all asking what had happened to him, why he wasn't at school, and why his parents dodged all questions with "Clark isn't well." He answered each email the same: he was ill with an autoimmune infection and was in an ICU room in a Metropolis hospital, and couldn't have any visitors. His parents were hiring a tutor for him in lieu of school. Then he logged off, too depressed to stay online anymore.

As he turned on the PlayStation, there came a knock at the door. He went to it and saw Roger, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Hey, Roger, what's up?"

"Lex asked that I take you to his rooms immediately."

"Oh. Okay, yeah, let's go." Clark followed Roger through the halls, both knowing why they were going to see Lex, and neither acknowledging it.

When they arrived at the door, Roger knocked and Lex called for Clark to enter. The boy took a deep breath and entered, scared to death, if he was being honest with himself.

Lex's suite was ornate in continuance with Clark's suite and the rest of the mansion, only more personalized and a bit larger than Clark's room. There was the expected living room, with couches, a TV and media center, and a fireplace. Lex was sitting on the black leather couch, legs crossed, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Hello, Clark."

"Um, hi."

"Come and sit by me." Lex patted the couch and Clark did so, sitting on the opposite end, far from the other man. "Clark, no need to fear me. Come closer."

"I'm okay here, thanks."

Lex looked at the boy with some surprise. No one ever told him "no." He was Lex Luthor, goddammit. He wasn't sure if it was annoying or adorable. Instead of deciding that potentially endless argument, Lex put his drink down on the table and leaned towards Clark, who leaned back, a look of fear on his face.

"Are you afraid of what I might do, Clark? Are you afraid of what I might make you feel?"

Clark didn't answer, but yes, he was.

"You seemed to enjoy it last night. Would you like to do some more of that?"

"No, thank you," the boy said tersely.

"I don't believe you." Lex kissed him gently and Clark remained stiff and unresponsive. But god, he wanted to give in. He wanted to throw himself against Lex and kiss him breathless and then maybe some light sex—oral, or handjobs, or something along those lines. Hell, he kind of wanted to fuck Lex stupid. But that could wait. He'd never had a boyfriend and he wanted to experience everything, even if he wouldn't admit it.

While he was imagining all the things he'd secretly like to do with Lex, Clark unconsciously relaxed into the kiss, which prompted Lex put his hand on the boy's thigh. Clark came back to the present at that, but in a show of bravery to himself, didn't pull away. In fact he put one hand on Lex's nape and pulled him closer. Lex loved that and moved his hand up farther to massage Clark's muscled thigh, and then the wonderful bulge in his pants.

Clark pulled away. Lex nipped at his ear and continued to massage his dick, unzipping his pants and pulling the erect organ out to get some fresh air. Meanwhile, Clark tried to speak. "Lex—hnnnn…stop. I don't…I don't want to. Please, oh god, that's… Stop. Please stooop."

Lex, hand never leaving Clark's cock, pulled his head up and looked at the boy. "Tell me this: Do you want me to stop because you're genuinely afraid; or because you're afraid of the way I make you feel, the things I do to you?"

When Clark didn't answer, only looked at the billionaire, Lex buried his face in the farmboy's neck and Clark devolved into a sweaty lump, keening for more pleasure.

But Lex wasn't ready for Clark to have that much fun just yet. He started stripping the boy, quickly and with deft hands, and Clark was almost naked before he realized. "Wha…wha're you doing?"

"We're going to play today, Clark." Lex quickly took his own shirt off and Clark stared in awe of the man's pale, perfectly toned chest, abs, and arms.

Lex ripped off Clark's pants and moved him so that he was kneeling on the floor, face buried in the couch. Lex stroked the boy's dick once before he set to the real work: He lubed up his finger and shoved it into Clark's perfect ass. Clark jolted in surprise and slight discomfort.

"Shhhhh, dear. You're going to melt from the pleasure I'll give you," Lex whispered, folding himself over the boy and licking his earlobe. He pumped that single digit, going in to the knuckle, then inserted a second finger. He pumped and pumped, then began to scissor. A third finger. Pump, scissor, pump, pump, scissor. Clark twitched every time a new finger went into his anus, but each time he quickly relaxed into the pleasure. Clark began to shake uncontrollably.

"Lex…please… I'm so horny, please let me cum," he mewled.

"Not yet, dear," Lex said pulling away from Clark's body and kneeling before that perfect ass. He removed his fingers and immediately licked the pucker. Clark jerked and shouted and Lex licked again. Then he shoved his tongue completely into the boy's ass and swirled and flicked and pumped. Clark was whining and moaning at this point and Lex decided it was time. He grabbed something from his pocket and began to work it in Clark's ass next to his mouth.

Finally he pulled his tongue free and all that was left was a medium-sized blue butt plug. It was a comfortable size, small enough to be good for anal virgins but big enough so it wouldn't fall out. It was hooked on the inside to rub against the prostate and had a base on the bottom so it wouldn't slip all the way into the ass. Lex admired it from his prime view.

"Lex…what is that? It feels weird," Clark asked, barely forming words.

"It's a butt plug, and it looks good on you. You're going to wear this all day. At dinner tonight, I'll reward you for your discipline. You can't take it out. If you do, I will punish you."

"What? There's no way I can walk with this…thing…in my…."

"With this toy in your ass? Oh I assure you, you'll get used to it and then you'll barely notice. Now, leave."

"But…"

"Oh, did you want to cum?" Clark nodded, blushing bright red. "I suppose I can do that." Lex gripped Clark's erection and stroked it swiftly and masterfully, kissing Clark's asscheeks all the while. Clark came within moments, burying his head in the couch and giving one long, deep groan. Lex almost decided to fuck the boy right there.

But he didn't. He would wait. He wanted to train Clark, to mold him into a talented and devoted lover. He could wait a little while.

Clark dressed awkwardly and left, walking bowlegged out the door. Then Lex grabbed a few other toys and brought himself to completion, reliving the last hour in his mind


	6. Farewell

**Hello, my dears! Unfortunately, this is not a new chapter. I'm getting a general vibe that this fic sucks, and not in a good way. Clark is OOC, it feels like Stockholm's, some people are taking it way too seriously, and so on and so forth. I actually kind of agree. So therefore, I'm ending it. I'm sorry for those of you who wanted more, but I will admit that this fic is crap. Go read some of my other fics. If you like X-Men, especially. Again, I'm sorry.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Forbala-**


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